where the heart is
by gidget89
Summary: She is caged. Spoilers for 6x13.


_**where the heart is**_

She is caged.

The irony is not lost on her that she is jailed for a crime they wanted her to commit, but she says nothing, does nothing, simply observes as she is shuttled to the asteroid where her cell awaits. Stormcage Containment Facility. Desolate, a dismal concrete and metal cage on an abandoned asteroid that no one in their right mind would ever willingly spend time on.

There is constant thunder and lightning.

There is never any rain.

She sits on her cot, staring at the blank grey walls around her, flashes of blue light a constant pattern on her wall. She doesn't close her eyes, because she will only see acid echoes of it against her lids, reds and greens garish against the dark.

In her lap is her diary – the one possession she'd refused to hand over, the one thing she'd damn near pitched a fit over when they tried to examine it. _It's just a journal._ It had been dismissed easily. _Let her keep it_. Her fingers trace the square panels on the front of it – the bluest blue, a blue she's only properly seen a few times but she can still see it in her mind's eye – the bright blue wood, smooth under her hand.

In a grey room, on a cot with grey sheets, in her grey pants and dull white top – a prison uniform designed to bleed every bit of colour out of its wearer's lives - she stares at grey walls and clutches the one piece of colour she has left tightly in her hands.

It is so blue it almost hurts to look at in here. Each flash of lightening illuminates it almost garishly. She's already written until her hand has cramped. Every detail she can remember. Fragments of unfinished sentences that represent the things she can almost remember, but not quite. She knows why she is here. What crime she has committed. What punishment was set down. She also knows that she did not kill him that day, on those shores.

He is safe.

Her fingers tighten around the binding of her diary and she drops her eyes to it. It doesn't matter if she killed him there or not, she knows. Because she is in jail for killing the Doctor, and she did kill him. Just not where and when they think. She killed him in a tyrant's office in the middle of a war, with the merest brush of her mouth against his and no regret whatsoever.

Not even a second thought.

Their first kiss and the memory of it chokes her now. Serving time for it here – well. She deserves to pay in one way or another. This is as good a way as any, and somehow reviving him and giving him her lives doesn't seem to be enough. He loved her then, she knows. He had to look into the face of the woman he loved and find nothing recognizable staring back at him. And then on top of all that, she killed him.

So she goes quietly, lead into her transport, lead into her cell. She does not struggle, and she does not fight. She is a picture of remorse, because anything else would be suspect, and they must never know that he is alive still.

Thunder rolls incessantly and she hears the echo of the guard's footfalls as he passes by on his nightly check. He does not speak to her, merely passes by with a blank expression and she is left alone with the unending flashes of electric white highlighting the nothingness around her.

A siren wails, and the cell is plunged into darkness, the only source of light coming from the flashes of light outside and the low green lighting in the halls, casting a sickly glow over everything around them. A scraping sound echoes around the thunder, and she looks up to see his ship materialize in between her cot and the wall she has been staring at.

The doors open and he pops his head out, a grin on his face as he looks around. "Bright side – there's enough room in here to park right now. Probably not for long though, I'd imagine. Well? What are you doing still sitting there? Come on, River."

She stands quietly, her diary still in her hands as she follows him into the box, the door clicking shut behind her. He races around the console, limbs out of control and a grin on his face as he twirls on the spot. She's never watched him fly before, and it seems like an excited, uncoordinated dance but she suspects that he chooses to fly in this lackadaisical manner. He throws levers and pulls the monitor around to him, presses buttons and pulls switches.

She hovers near the door, her feet still bare and her gaze taking in everything she'd never had time to notice before. The soft sheen of the metal rings on the ceiling, the warm glow of the yellow walls, the cyan lights, the glass floor and below the copper casing over the heart of the TARDIS herself.

Like before, she feels the TARDIS in her mind as soon as she enters the doors. It's not exactly words or images, just a knowledge that exists within her. She knows things, but she knows that these are things she'd never known before. He clears his throat and she jumps, realizing he is standing in front of her with a grin. "Sorry," she apologizes instinctually and he studies her carefully.

"Well River Song, trust you to make a dreadful uniform look good. We're in space, just floating. Too dangerous to stay in the vortex too long, and no landing tonight. I suppose we _could_ land somewhere, but I thought you'd just like to explore her. Her being the TARDIS. She's a her. Not in a metaphorical sense, but in a literal sense. Though I suppose that just because she got put in that body doesn't necessarily mean she's a woman, but she's a woman. Course she's a woman. Couldn't be anything else really." His hands slide along his lapels and he rocks back on his heels as he stares down at her. "You're being very quiet. You're never quiet. You always have something to say; inappropriate things nine times out of ten. River?"

She doesn't answer right away, instead studying the buttons on his shirt – grey striped cotton and a black bowtie, like the one he'd been wearing-

Her hand clenches and she stares down at it, remembering the feel of the soft material wrapped around it even as she hugs her diary to her chest with her other hand. "She is a woman." She finally speaks, her voice rough and low and he tilts his head, lifting his brows in inquiry. "The TARDIS. She is a woman."

"Course she is. Don't be stupid." He scratches his cheek as he stares at her. "You're hard work young. I feel like I don't know what to do. Though, to be fair, I usually feel like that. About most things. Well not clever things, I'm good at those. Solutions in a pinch – excellent track record with those as well, but you," he steps in closer, his hands closing around her diary as he tugs it from her, taking her hand in his own as he pulls her up the stairs and closer to the console. He drops her diary on the jump seat and turns to face her, stepping in close enough that she almost steps back. "But you, River. I never know what to do with you. And I'd blame it on the fact that you're so _early_ in our time stream, but I've even less of a clue when you're older, so. There goes that excuse."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again and he shakes his head with a sigh, his hands sliding up her arms until his palms press against her shoulders.

"Don't be. I like it. Most of the time. You make me feel..." he trails off as he looks down at her, a soft expression lighting the back of his eyes. "Excited. And elated. And confused. And joyful. And thankful. And frustrated." One of his hands lift and he slides a finger down along the bridge of her nose. He is watching her with an expression she cannot describe but she wants the words to be able to. "I'm sorry you have to stay there. That I put you there."

"May I add a rule?" Her voice is hesitant, but she remembers and doesn't remember – and she remembers his words on that beach even while she remembers his face on top of that pyramid. _You disappoint me_.

"Of course, you can add anything you want. Rule 478 then, we're up to. Go."

"If I'm forgiven, always and completely, then so are you." She meets his eyes as she speaks and he draws a breath in and holds it. "I was willing."

"I didn't ask." He points out and she shakes her head.

"You didn't ask a lot of things, but I was willing anyway." She points out and wraps her arms around herself as she stares up at him. Emotions war within her, because it is who she is. A woman at war with herself.

"How much do you remember, River?" His voice is soft and he is still standing in front of her, but he is very still, almost cautious.

"I remember everything that happened – when time stood still. I remember the beach, but I remember it twice. I remember... some things I don't remember," she confesses quietly. "They told me I killed you. But I remember what you told me, what you whispered. I don't remember my trial – or even if I had one. I just remember the beach and the water, and then the transport ship, and the prison. I didn't fight them; I thought that might make them suspicious."

"Oh my clever girl." He smiles and she slides her gaze away from his face, looking up at the time rotor in the middle of the console and focussing on that – the slow up and down movement is calming. "River." He says her name firmly, and she feels the weight of his gaze on her, insistent and pressing until she looks back down and meets his eyes. "You know that what I said then – there..." he hesitates and sighs deeply before running a hand through his hair and looking down at her. "I was pushing you, River. I mean, I was angry, but I was also pushing you."

"Why?" She frowns in confusion and leans one hip against the console next to her. A hum sings through her body and she instantly feels so much better, warmer, lighter, so she turns to face the console and places her palms flat against the etched glass there. She can read it – the symbols translate themselves in her mind and she stares down at it as she waits for his response.

"I was upset about what you'd done. What you'd risked, River. _All_ of time. But I was also judging you by standards you haven't even set yet. You know, you make it look so easy, in the future. When you dealt with me and I was the ignorant one – you made it look _easy_. And it's not. Not at all. I expected you to know and trust that I'd always find a way out, but you don't know that. You don't know _me_, not properly." He is leaning against the console next to her, his back to it and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at her earnestly.

"That's rubbish." She speaks calmly, and he glances over at her, startled. "I mean I know I didn't know well enough to count on you finding a way out of it, lesson learned, by the way – but I _do_ know you Doctor."

"We haven't met enough for you to know me, River. Not from your point of view. And I pushed you because I didn't believe you." He finishes quietly and she turns her head toward him, studying him carefully.

"I was raised on stories of every failure you'd ever committed, Doctor. Every action you probably regret – those were my bed time stories. Gallifrey, the Daleks, every race lost, every life not saved, planets left in chaos just because you'd dropped down from above like a god into their lives. Fixed points that were fixed _by_ you, Pompeii and the Ood – every life sacrificed along the way." She keeps her gaze fixed on him as she speaks and he flinches away from her words, his eyes on the glass floor beneath his feet.

"And then I met Amy and Rory, and I grew up all over again with them. Amy's stories of you rescuing her, Prisoner Zero, the crack in her wall. And then once she came back after she'd lost me, even more stories. Vampires and Silurians, Daleks and Romans – Star whales, Doctor. I'd been taught to hate you by Kovarian and taught to question that by Amy. You didn't believe that I loved you, not _really_. You thought it was too soon, but I saw you, Doctor. _All_ of you – right from the very beginning. Because you're not Kovarian's evil monster and you're not Amy's constant hero either. You're both. Light and dark, careless and compassionate, indifferent and loving." He looks up at that but she holds up a hand to stop him. "No, let me finish."

He settles back against the console and waits and she sighs heavily, turning toward him and running a hand through her hair. "None of that made me love you Doctor. Two sides of one coin, but it wasn't love. I was intrigued of course, but the love came from here. Right _here_." Her hands strokes the console and she looks up at the machine that is not a machine that surrounds them both. "Her. I can't ever properly explain what happened the first time I stepped through her doors. Time wasn't the same in here, and suddenly I _knew_ things I'd never known before. But she helped me see you – really properly _see_ you. She changed me, in Berlin. And that's why I saved you then, and that was why I looked for you everywhere, and that was why I couldn't kill you on that beach. It's not infatuation or blind, idealistic love. I know who you are; I know what you've done." Her voice is a whisper as she looks at him and meets his eyes. "I wouldn't change _any_ of it. Because you're not a good man, Doctor, but I'm not a good woman either. And what you said up there – on that pyramid..." She trails off, swallows heavily and suddenly feels his arms around her as he pulls her into his arms, his lips against the top of her head and his hands smoothing over her shoulders and back.

"I'm sorry. River... I didn't know." His eyes close and his head leans against hers as his arms wrap around her tightly.

"I didn't either." Her voice is muffled against his shoulder and slowly she wraps her arms around him, standing on tip toe so she could press against him. "I should have trusted you."

"And I you, River. I should have told you the truth of it on that beach, but I'm glad I didn't." His whisper stirs the curls in her hair and she tilts her head back to look up at him in curiosity. "Married on top of a pyramid in an alternate time stream? Enough to satisfy the archaeologist in you and the Timelord in me, eh?"

She swallows as doubts crawl into her mind, as she looks up at him fearfully. "It wasn't a real timeline, Doctor."

"Do you remember it?" He asks her seriously and she nods with uncertainty. "Real enough then isn't it?"

"I thought it was... consolation." She barely whispers the words and he stares down at her in shock.

"You silly, _stupid_ girl. If I'd told you the truth about the beach, _without_ the hand fasting River, you'd have reset time because I asked you to. You know that. I _knew_ that. I did it anyway." He whispers the words into the skin by her temple as he presses a soft kiss there and pulls back. "I did it because I _wanted_ to. Because you and me, River Song – we're for each other."

"You didn't say it-"

"I'm a bit terrible at that part." He confesses quietly as he looks at her. "Doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"You didn't even ask," she points out and he chuckles and reaches between them, tapping her nose lightly.

"Ah but you said it earlier – you were willing. And I _did_ ask. You just haven't gotten there yet." He grins smugly and she sighs and arches a brow up at him, her arms still around his waist as she presses herself closer to him.

"So you're telling me you asked _future_ me to marry you even though according to _her_ you're already married, and then used that as permission to not ask current me now?" She frowns and he laughs.

"Isn't it glorious? And yes. And you said yes. Well, _will_ say yes. So be sure to say yes, got it?" She shakes her head in confusion and he grins at her. "Wibbly-wobbly. It's less frustrating than you think, if you just let go of the small details. We're something else, River."

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and she gives in, letting it bloom across her face as she stares up at him. "I suppose we are."

"Absolutely amazing." He promises, leaning in and capturing her lips with his own. She remembers everything that happened on that pyramid, but her memory of the kiss is fuzzy. It blurs around the edges and ends with her standing on the beach in the bright sunlight. So this kiss she pays attention to every second that passes. The way his mouth moves deliberately over hers, the way he sucks on her bottom lip gently, the way his hand slides up to cup the side of her face. She memorizes the heat that pools between them, sliding through her body like slow honey. She imprints the taste of him on her mind, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers languorously. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world – and maybe they do, for this moment. He never stops kissing her, always parting with her only to move back in and kiss her again, his hands pulling her hips into his and his smile pressed against her mouth.

Her hands are sliding over his lapels, brushing against his bowtie affectionately before she buries them in his hair, winding her fingers through the soft strands. She wants to climb him, wrap herself around him in every possible manner and when they break apart this time, they are both panting and she feels slightly dizzy and light-headed. She is breathless and grinning, but she cannot seem to stop for the life of her. He is smiling too and she slides a hand along his cheek gently. "Still this reality and you're still conscious. Well that's new." He laughs and she sways toward him, until there is no space between them. "I'm glad you came tonight."

"Every night River. Probably never in the right order but I promise you – as long as you have to spend your days in that cell for me, I'll have your nights." She stares up at him, her hand dropping to adjust his bowtie carefully. She stares at the patterned fabric intently.

"And afterward? I'll live longer than any life sentence they can impose Doctor. What happens then?"

"Then, my bad, bad girl - you come _home_." Her hearts leap in her chest as she stares up at him. She can feel the beat of his hearts and hers, and she presses a soft kiss to his absolutely ridiculously wonderful chin. Home is a wonderful word, and this is the only place she's even remotely felt that peace.

"Home?" She whispers the question and he grins down at her.

"Always, River. It's ours now. Yours and mine." He hugs her tightly and presses his face into her hair, and her arm wraps around his shoulder as her other hand strokes his bowtie gently. She smiles at the sight of it – she'll never look at it without seeing it as a symbol of a world that never happened and a marriage that did, alternate time line be damned.

"I've never had that." She whispers the words and he presses a soft kiss to her temple, pulling back to smile down at her.

"Welcome home, wife."


End file.
